The signal dies. I stop trying to wiggle my legs as the imposter turns to look at me to see if I understand. I do.
The eyes are different, the face, the voice, but my unconscious mind knows who the imposter is beyond a shadow of a doubt. It is Atlas au Raa. He’s not hunting Darrow, he’s not on Earth, he’s not pacifying South America. He never was. He had plans, he’d said—plans that could not be derailed. That’s why he urged me to keep my distance from Diomedes. Why Atalantia smirked as she left after my speech in the Colosseum.
He’s working with the Ascomanni. The very people he spent years trying to kill for Octavia. He’s going to destroy the Rim Armada. But why, for what possible gain?
I ask, but I know the answer.
The Rim never paid the bill for their rebellion.
Now Atlas and his Gorgons have come to collect.
Under the locusts. That was him. Volsung Fá.
Even though the signal is dead, the sounds of the locusts fill my ears with dread.
Death is here, and famine is coming.
The Gray in the coms pit, a Gorgon, shouts: “Helminth ready!”
“Send it,” Atlas says, and begins to conduct the ship with the Cestus. A chaos of holographic globes with information appears around him. First, he begins to spool massive amounts of energy in the reactors. Second, he takes control of the anti-ship guns and gathers targetingsolutions. Last, he calls Dido. Diomedes cannot hear or see or even thrash anymore by the time the hologram of his mother appears.
“Helios, the fleet has nearly finished its contraction. Your visual is down.”Dido’s brow furrows. She pauses, referencing something.“Why are you spooling your reactor? Your scouts have enemy—”
“Dido au Saud, for the crime of treason against your Society, I sentence you to death.”
Dido stares back without expression.“All power to—”
Her signal goes out in a wash of static.
Due to the contraction maneuver, the distance that separates the two flagships of the Rim Armada is small. A few hundred meters at most. TheDragon Songbelieved itself to be safe, surrounded by its fleet and nestled above the great mass of the most powerful ship in their civilization. Its shields were down to not tax its reactors and to keep its thermal signature low. Stealth was the priority. So when theDustmakerfires at point-blank range into the unshielded belly of the smaller ship, the devastation is immediate. A barrage of heavy rail slugs follows, and then several atomics.
It is a death salvo aimed directly at Dido’s buried bridge.
Her dreadnaught is too big even for theDustmakerto kill with one salvo, so Atlas fires three. The third cleaves into the superstructure of the ship itself and breaks theDragon Song’s back. The ship is nearly cut in two. Diomedes has no idea his mother is now less than dust.
The pain in my muscles and bones has faded from white hot to a steady red. I test an arm. It moves sluggishly. I don’t think anyone noticed. The Mind’s Eye is impossible to grasp. It can’t be that. So it must be the poison leech Dido gave me. I kept it on because of the lingering effects of the Lament, and also my growing paranoia. It’s metabolizing the poison. Just not fast enough.
It seems Atlas is only just getting started. He expands the battle sphere hologram. Holos of the Rim fleet throb around him. All those ships and all those men look like toys in his hands.
“Fiat iustitia et pereat mundus!”the Gorgons shout.
Atlas feels no need to say anything. He lifts the Binds of Zeus and closes it into a fist. Every gun and torpedo tube on the moonBreaker fires at the engines of every Dominion ship within range.
Shields only work if they are on. If they’re on, they radiate on sensors like torches in the night. With Kalyke deemed clear of enemies andstealth the priority, shields across the fleet are down. The barrage is more gruesomely effective than it ever could be in a pitched battle. It does not destroy the Rim Armada, but it has the same effect that iron caltrops would have on a cavalry charge. Soon, Atlas is surrounded by ships bleeding atmosphere, made dark by the loss of power, or with their engines burping blue and black plumes.
The reaction of the rest of the fleet is impressive. Even as they hail theDustmaker,they open fire on her. Though theDustmakeris a powerful ship, it has no hope against the entire armada. Soon the bridge begins to shudder as the Rim Praetors gnaw through theDustmaker’s shield. TheDustmakerfires back with its huge guns.
Then the second phase of Atlas’s trap springs.
As the fleet fights the chaos at its center, waves of torpedoes flicker up from Kalyke where launchers must have been installed in the surface of the pocked moon. Thousands of torpedoes. Tens of thousands hoarded for this deathblow. I am staggered by the sight.
Rim ships race to intercept.
As they do, the third evolution of Atlas’s trap comes around the curve of Kalyke. It is the coup de grâce. The fleet of Volsung Fá is not on Io. It is here. Hidden behind the mass of Kalyke, it now races for the besieged Rim Armada.
I feel the doom that must grip the hearts of the Rim Praetors as they see the repurposed Republic destroyers and torchShips painted with the crescent sigil of the Volk streaming toward them. Between those ships stream hundreds of the misshapen smaller craft belonging to the Ascomanni. And at the center of the enemy—the wrecking balls. Four dreadnaughts and Julii’s stolenPandora.
Those Rim ships whose engines were not hit by theDustmakercould flee. Their ships are faster than the coming enemy. But if they flee, they leave their brothers and sisters behind. They make the brave choice. The stupid choice. They choose to stay to fight and die with honor.
